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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




RICHARD GRIFFIN 



THE 

LOBSTER'S GIZZARD 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 

RICHARD GRIFFIN 



PUBLISHED BY 

THE AUTHOR 






Copyright, 1916 

BY 

RICHARD GRIFFIN 



JUL -7 1916 



CI.A431766 



THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD 

Put on your thinking cap, 

Scorn your notched ear lobe. 

Go run another lap^ — 

What a botched queer globe ! 

Get out your rifle, Mike, 

Slide in a cartridge. 
Go to the Devil's Dike, 

Bring down a partridge. 

Sweep off the Persian rugs. 
Shake out the buggy bugs, 
Buy up the bunch of jugs, 
Pull out their wooden plugs. 

Slip down from Salway Frith, 
Come into Galway with 
Me. Climb the Hill of Tara. 
Where the great Mike O'Hara 
During a frightful blizzard 
Cut out the lobster's gizzard, 

(Or tried to do it.) 

How he did rue it ! 

Michael, be steadfast, sure, 

Dont wear a mask. 
Do take the Keely cure, 

Stick to your task. 
3 



THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD 

Think of that mighty Wizard. 

Don't mind your trouble, 
Think of the lobster's gizzard, 

Blow out your bubble. 

Michael was thinking hard 
Deep in the thicket, 

Kinking the sHnking card 
Close to the wicket. 

Suddenly — listen — hist, 

What makes that clinking? 
Why does he clinch his fist, 

What means this bhnking? 
Everything leading to 

Oh, such a dreadful stress, 
Something all pleading, new. 

Fresh to my rim rams, yes. 

Enter the lizard. 

Now comes the Wizard, 

Now for the wonderful 

Seer. He appears 
Spouting his thunderful 

Voice at Mike's ears. 
Saying '' Great Michael 

Don't be a Flunky 
Compass the cycle 

All hunky dunky. 
Never expect good luck 
'Til from the core you pluck 
One bleeding gizzard pop 
Forth from the lobster's crop. 



THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD 

Hurriedly hobble it. 

Rapidly gobble it. 
Always remember me, 

Get out your sling. 
Study the apple tree 

Late in the spring. 
When plunk upon the trunk 

You see your lizard, 
Look sharp, there is your hunk, 

Ominous gizzard ! 
Up in the apple tree 

There waits your lobster. 
Farewell and think of me 

Don't fail your Slobster. 

Thus spoke the thunderful 
Voice from the cycle, 

Oh, what a wonderful 

Fortune, dear Michael. 

Oh, what a fearful creak 
Let the Earth shock. 

Sneak off, thou Wizard sneak 
Into thy rock. 

Michael is left alone 

Scratching his chin all soup. 
Rubbing his funny bone, 

Don't be a Nincompoop. 

Mike, yank some other prize, 
Heed not the Wizard. 

Take my advice, be wise, 
Avoid the lizard. 



6 THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD 

Quick! run another mile 

Out of the wreck, 
Come in and have a smile, 

Do wash your neck, 
Anything, anything, 

Only be cheerful. 
Don't hail the Ding Ding 

Wagon so fearful. 

Mike rubs his funny bone. 
Prowling about alone, 

Searching from tree to tree. 
Now comes the blizzard, 

Michael all eager, he 
Looks for the gizzard. 

Michael, the great O'LIara, 
Climbing the Hill of Tara, 
Where the Harp famous once 
Twang. Now this foolish dunce. 
Trusting the wicked Wizard, 
Looks for the lobster's gizzard. 

Wind, snow and blinding hail 
Pour down the mountain dale. 
Oh, what a dreadful gale 
Slaps Michael with its flail. 

Weak kippered Jackass, 
Looking for boodle, 

This withered slack ass. 
Noodle and poodle 

Falls in the trap. 

Hell's own flip flap. 



THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD 

Death chops the door 
Sneaking all hidden. 

Hell shows its claw 

Grim and forbidden. 



What means this thud 
Sickening, harsh? 

Mike in the mud 

Deep in the marsh, 

Troubled with cramps 

Sinks to his lamps. 



Poor Mike 

Can't hike. 
He splutters and chokes, 
He curses the hoax. 
Forgetting the Hzard 
He curses the Wizard. 



Oh, vile phantom gizzard ! 
Fierce raging the blizzard 
Stirs up the thick mud 
Around with a thud. 
Mike over his head 
On nothing doth tread. 
The Devil, his keeper. 
Now pokes him down deeper 
In filthy black mush 
His mouth full of slush. 



8 THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD 

Mike, covered entire, 
Is deep in the mire. 
And still the Hfe lingers. 
The struggling fingers 
Rise out of the slush. 
But now look — hush, hush ! 

Mike splutters for breath 
And now — welcome Death! 
The fingers stop wiggling, 
No desperate wriggling. 
Now — ^now beyond doubt 
The Fiend has won out. 

The King of the blizzard 
Triumphant — the Wizard 
Now laughs at the lizard. 
That fake lobster's gizzard 
Comes in for its joke. 
Oh, why did Mike choke. 
Oh, why did he croak. 
Unfortunate Bloke ! 
Oh why did he croak 
Poor Bloke, oh Poor Bloke! 




CUT OUT THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD 



WHERE IS THE JAIL? 

The maiden lies upon the couch wrapped in a troubled 

sleep. 
The day is drawing to a close, the shadows darkly 

creep 
In wavy weird fantastic form. May her good Angel 

keep 
Evil away, come let us pray with fervency deep. 

Gentle Elvina, breathing hard, began to whisper low. 
Clasping both hands about her head she shook it to 

and fro. 
Sobbing aloud these broken words '^ Please, Judge, do 

let him go." 

" Heaven I do beseech thee, please, I ask on bended 

knee. 
Grant me this request, dear Lord, and send him back 

to me, 
I'll penance say both night and day, but only set him 

free." 

Soon from the casement came a shout up from the busy 

street. 
The fresh young bo3dsh voice arose above the falling 

sleet. 

" Last edition, buy my paper, all the news complete." 

9 



10 WHERE IS THE JAH. 

The little girl despairing gasps. She learns the truth 

full soon. 
Found guilty on the second count, the Jury out since noon. 
Gentle Elvina gave one scream, then sank into a swoon. 

Unconsciousness, most charitably kind, however brief, 
Comes to an end. She wakes, she moans, all overcome 

with grief. 
Kind friends now try to help the girl but cannot bring 

relief. 

For many days all in one maze the brain intense quite 
dense. 

Whirls in and out all round about reaching one con- 
sequence. 

The pendulum swings forth red wroth all on the anxious 
fence. 

What shall we do, poor girl so true, where sails your 
brain, ah whence? 

Gentle Elvina keeps her bed. The same heartbroken 

wail 
Day after day, " Tell me do pray, where, oh where is 

the jail. 
Where have they put my lover, teil me, is he out on bail? 
See, I am strong enough to walk, oh, take me to the jail." 

The girl, now wanders on the street, stumbles through 

wind and hail. 
Sobbing aloud the same heartbroken, useless, fruitless 

wail, 
^* Kind friends, oh tell — I seek his cell, oh where, where 

is the jail." 



WHERE IS THE JAIL? 11 

Day after day, month after month, she walks along the 

street. 
Oh dire inquire with brain all fire, with weary aching 

feet — 
The same old wail, " where is the jail, oh, shall we never 

meet! " 

At last she learns the awful truth. Her lover pined 

away. 
Despairing in his lonely cell, wearing out. There he lay, 
Calling on her he loved to come and cast one last bright 

ray 
Upon his soul e're muffled roll call to the judgment day. 

They buried him in the jail yard, along with a bunch 

of yeggs. 
Departed chums of the lock step, society's lowest dregs. 
In a pit of Hme, one puddle of grime, like ill-conditioned 

eggs. 

See that crowd on the corner, what are they looking 

at? 
Only a bundle of rags, two hands, one face, that's all, 

just that. 
To give this picture a classic name, we'll call it " After 

the bat." 

They buried her in a pauper's grave, she has no friends 

to claim — 
All disclaim the poor Uttle girl. Nobody knows her 

name. 
And so they call her *' Number Six," the very last in 

the game. 



12 WHERE IS THE JAIL? 

Now come with me and we shall see, together we will 

glance, 
Into the world beyond. Unfurled, my soul it doth 

enhance 
Ten thousand fold what I behold. I see as in a trance. 

The little girl is happy now, most joyful mystery. 
The lovers are together and forever they shall be 
United, no more trouble, no parting, ever free. 
Love and be loved is theirs, oh blessed bright decree. 
Comforting two broken hearts, uniting he and she, 
Songs of praise forevermore throughout eternity. 



WATER ON THE BRAIN 

Slobby Peter — what an eater! 
See him wobble on the cobble. 
Teeter teeter, see him gobble 
Fried potatoes in his coffee. 
Mix it, stir it up all frothy. 
Yes, his case is very plain, 
He has water on the brain. 

What an awful thing it is. 
That an intellect all fizz 
Should meander in a maze. 
Such a parting of the ways! 
Peter's ways — so very plain. 
He has water on the brain. 

Nature now is steeped in bile. The 
Rocks of ages tremble while the 
Donkey and its Donkhng brays. 
Little Bessie broke her stays 
Frightening the Jenny wren. 
Hear the cackle of the Hen, 
Sister of the Rooster. Rays 
From the solar magnet flays 
Burning red forth from the sky. 
Let us drink some rock and rye. 
Even the poor Turkey gobbler, 
Beaten by the Devil's cobbler 
Totters, then puts on its brakes 
Hissing like a brace of snakes. 

13 



14 WATER ON THE BRAIN 

See all nature upside down 
From its heels e'en to the crown. 
Insect, quadruped and biped 
Quite perplexed — some wicked Spy said, 
— But no matter what that Guy said. 
'Tis one fabricated lie, said 
To divert us from that plain 
Ailment — water on the brain. 

See the Booby rub his glasses, 

As he pours the thick molasses 

On the slice of sirloin steak. 

What a wrinkle, what a fake! 

Will his intellect awake? 

That's all right, his mind opaque, 

Feels its way through paths dark, devious, 

— Same old trouble written previous. 

Doctor's treatment all in vain! 

He has water on the brain. 

Silly Tilly has a pain. 
In her cranium no grain — 
Common sense departed — zip! 
See that glass of sherry flip, 
Rehc of those evil deeds. 
All her belfry full of weeds 
Sticking out in nasty shape, 
But too late, they can't escape. 

Tilly has an ugly mug, 
Down her face one claw she dug. 
Sherry flip and whisky plain 
Gave her water on the brain. 



WATER ON THE BRAIN 15 

Ikie Ikeson runs a Hock 
Shop where needy people flock, 
Where the handsome well-clad thug 
Gliding in so nice and smug, 
There presents the small gold watch. 
Goodness Heaven! what a botch, 
What a bungle nature gave 
To the World. This sneaking knave 
Hurries to Saint Martin's Lane, 
Pawns his sister's watch and chain. 
Yes, the symptoms all are plain. 
He has water on the brain. 

When the Ding Ding wagon drives 
Through the gate, as it arrives, 
See those eyes as bright as stars 
Flashing through the iron bars 
Looking for the buggy bus 
Ever ringing, what a fuss ! 
Fresh fish, more bugs, dandy haul! 
Mary welcomes one and all. 
She — poor Trusty, tends the door. 
Washes dishes, scrubs the floor. 
Churns the butter in the buttery 
Of the captivating Nuttery, 
Does all work about the dairy 
And her name is crazy Mary. 
Everything against her grain. 
She has water on the brain. 

Now we have another hero. 
All gray matter is at zero. 



16 WATER ON THE BRAIN 

James, the Watchman, has the cramp. 

Yes — he is a Kstless swain. 

There — he overturns the lamp. 

He has water on the brain. 

See him choke, the careless Bloke. 

What a bursting, what a smoke. 



Angry flames soon claim their own. 

Hear the crackle, hear the groan 

Rising from each buggy lung, 

While the fire, rung on rung 

Rises to the topmost floor. 

See each Inmate scratch and claw 

On his comrade's jaw. Howl, howl ! 

Curses, imprecations foul 

Mingle with that dreadful smell — 

Roasting flesh. Oh, what a yell. 

Hear that yell — now softer, quiet — 

Hear the echo answer " fry it, 

Get the hose, quick, quick — now ply it." 

But that other water — dry it. 

Squeeze it, ease it from all pain. 

Dry the water on the brain. 



See, the Bug House is a ruin. 
All its Inmates now are due in 
Paradise, or else 'tis — where? 
Climbing down the sooty stair 
To that pool of racking pain, 
Boiling water on the brain. 



WATER ON THE BRAIN 17 

See the carcases all charred, 

Filling up the Bug House yard, 

Twisted into many shapes 

Like huge worms, those made like tapes 

Of all sizes, big and little, 

Crisp and brown, both soft and brittle, 

But quite free from Earthly pain. 

No more water on the brain. 



THE WOMAN WITHOUT ANY EARS 

The Empress of beauty don't slice 
Her ears like some tiny bull pup. 

She hides them away — so precise. 
She carefully covers them up: 
Then orders the sparkling cup. 
For a sup. 

The brindle cow chews at the cud; 
She has two long beautiful ears. 

The piggie pig revels in mud — 

All ears. No deformity queers 
The heifer and little brown steers : 
They have ears. 

Last week as I rode in the trolley, 
I could not control the hot tears. 

I sighted that Dolly so jolly, 

The woman without any ears. 
Oh what has become of her ears 
All these years? 

She parted her hair in the middle. 

Then looped it in two drooping gears, 

Arranged it down low — quite aquiddle. 

Brave woman without any fears: 

The woman who hides both her ears 

Many years. 
18 



THE WOMAN WITHOUT ANY EARS 19 

Oh, why should there be such a custom, 
Why steer your ear under the waves? 

You might as well dive in and bust 'em 
As bow to all novelty craves. 
Don't swallow the twaddle it craves 
Digging graves. 

You meet them wherever you wander. 

Oh my — see that freak that appears 
At th' head of the stairs over yonder, 

The creature with rickety gears. 

The woman without any ears, 
Now appears. 

She thinks she is quite a neat model. 

She blinks, then turns white as she hears 
Sweet prattle — The babe that can't toddle 

Lisps, " Mother mine, where are her ears. 

That woman without any ears. 
Oh these tears!" 

We call her the woman without any 

Ears. She sheds oceans of tears. 
The starter of fashion sinned when he 

Decreed that all girls hide their ears. 

Yes, girls, hurry up, hide your ears, 
Quick, my dears. 

The first in the dandy caboodle 

The woman without any ears. 
Yes, sure — a neat model — no noodle. 

Her hearing the hairy rat queers, 

As into the market she steers 
Without fears. 



20 THE WOMAN WITHOUT ANY EARS 

The lady that flops down her rats 
Is far from a donkey — no noddle 

She certainly laces her slats. 

They call her the high-stepping coddle. 
Yes, really an extra neat model, 
All toddle. 

My dear, hide your ear, it's a duty. 

Just set up your smiles and your wiers. 
Pure type of American beauty 

(One charming neat model, my dears) . 

The woman without any ears 
Rightly steers. 

Don't sag — follow suit with each wrinkle. 

Trot up and don't fall in arrears. 
Take after the stars — ever twinkle 

Fair Lady, quite lacking all fears. 

The woman without any ears. 
Now three cheers! 



THE ELM OF NAX * 
(A Revelation) 

" The Bottomless pit 

Yawns ever forever. 
The blasphemous wit 

Of th' Blacksmith can never 
Extract from the pit 

The damned lost forever." 

I entered the valley, 

Felt nil, truly ill. 
('Twas no time to dally.) 

I tried hard to still 
My heart. I choked— bally! 

I swallowed the pill. 

Look, see the sharp ax 
Swing out as it cracks 
The Ehn called Nax. 

The Angel of light 

Glided through the dark chasm. 
Then wended its flight 

To th' cave choked with wassima. 
The twilight though slight, 

Brought on a fierce spasm. 

* This famous tree is spelled either Nax or Nacks. I use both 
ways. — The Author. 

21 



22 THE ELM OF NAX 

The bright Angel feels 
A sort of a flickety 

Shock through the heels. 
Wheels scrape a clickety 

Knock. See the keels 
Decidedly rickety. 

The bright Angel cracks 
To slivers the branch 

Of th' Ehn called Nacks. 
'Tis on my own ranch. 

My classic lip smacks 

Saying, " Dicky, be stanch." 

" Dear Angel, oh pray, 

Please tell me, oh do, 
The Pilgrim dead, say — 

The souls of those few- 
Friends dead— oh allay 

My sad fears, some clue. 
What are they doing? 
Hear that cat mewing. 
Sprite of the air. 
How do they fare? " 

The Angel spoke brightly. 

Extending one wing 
Which drew his robe tightly. 

Commencing to sing. 
He yodels quite sprightly 

And flings out his sling. 
Then grabs my ear lightly, 

Oh, oh, what a sting ! 



THE ELM OF NAX 23 

My hearing not queering, 

I turn very pale. 
Though all of my gearing 

In order, I quail. 
My weedy brain clearing, 

I hear a sad tale. 

The Revelation 

'^ The Clergyman, base, 

Alas he doth dwell 
In a very hot place, 

No salubrious dell. 
Black sin doth deface 

The region called Hell." 

Again the sharp ax 
Swings out as it cracks 
The Elm of Nax. 

" The Clergyman's wife. 

With eyes meekly down, 
(No trouble, no strife). 

Receives the white gown, 
Pure water of life. 

Immortal bright crown. 

" Now what shall we say, 

That Pilgrim thought holy — 

Oh dread judgment day ! 
Apparently lowly, 

Now deep in hot clay. 

That place most unholy. 



24 THE ELM OF NAX 

" The boss Hobo he, 

Dense Jackass, lame soul; 
After many a spree 

Now steeps in the bowl. 
Accepts the decree 

And pays the last toll 

By shoveHng coal. 

" Poor Stranger, befuddled. 

Not fit to be seen. 
Dimifounded, quite muddled. 

Wrapped up in a sheen 
Of fire all cuddled 

In Fiddler's green." 

Again the sharp ax 
Swings out as it cracks 
The Ehn of Nax. 

" The black oven door — 

Just open it — well, 
One girl, nothing more 

In th' fiery cell. 
She screams evermore. 

Poor girHe in Hell. 

" The girHe, proud boasting, 

Once walked through the street 

To sin. What a toasting! 
Fierce punishment meet. 

The fire is roasting 

The soles of her feet. 



THE ELM OF NAX 25 

" Poor little Chippy, 
Barefoot and dippy, 

Begging for stockings. 

While fiendish mockings 
Are shockings, that yelll 
Poor girlie in Hell, 

'Midst fiendish mockings, 

Begging for stockings. 

*' We cannot defend her. 

Oh judgment most dire ! 
No, nothing can render 

Rehef from the briar. 
The soles of her tender 

Bare feet all on fire. 
Hot flaming blister. 

Such fearful mockings! 
Frail Httle Sister 

Begging for stockings." 

The Elm is twisted. 
The Fiend is enlisted 
'Gainst Heaven collided, 
And all is decided. 
All business is lax 
No more the ax cracks 
The Ehn of Nax. 
The Angel chews tacks. 

Black Hell Reaper quiver 

Keep twisting and turning, 
While broiling yet shiver. 

All sizzling, churning 



26 THE ELM OF NAX 

Th' flowing hot river 

Both freezing and burning, 
Anarchy hurling 
Th' torch, see it curling. 

Burning, no respite, no never, 
Burning forever and ever. 

The Angel of light 

Now swallows the tacks, 

Quite eager for flight. 
He gathers the flax 

All glistening bright 

And rubs it with wax, 
In the shade of the Nax, 
On the banks of the Sax 
Fair river. Pax, Pax! 

The cute foxy Sprite, 
Now wove the flax tight 

In shape of a boat. 
He sails through the night. 

Away he doth float 
By th' silvery light 

Of th' moon. See him gloat. 

Caressing his ax. 

Saying, " Pax, brother. Pax." 

The sprite sings a song 
In praise of the ax. 

The boat skips along, 

That boat made of flax, 



THE ELM OF NAX 27 

Far out on the sea 

Where the sun ever beams, 
To th' island so free 

The Bun Land of Dreams. 

The Arch Angel, he 

Fair neat model cod 
Far out in the sea 

Now carries the hod 
Of platiniun bright, 

In fair land of Nod. 

Most wonderful tree 
Of Nacks, bend the knee 

And worship the ax, 

" Oh Pax, brother, Pax." 



NOTIONAL NIMROD 

Notional Nimrod is steering 

On through the current of trouble. 

See how the Demon is leering, 

Casting the spell on his double. 
Holding his grip on the bubble. 

Nimrod could never help stealing, 
Everything good within sight. 

E'en while approaching that speeling, 

Encroaching, unfeeling, dread sprite, 
Who governs the darkening night. 

Nimrod was once a pickpocket, 

Up in fair Ossining's book. 
When near a till he would knock it, 

SHp out the money, sly Hook. 

Really — one fine, clever Crook. 

Nimrod felt sure of his salary. 

Treated the bunch at the bar. 

First in the famous Rogues' gallery, 

Who cares? He drives his own car. 

Notional Nimrod is drunk, 

Nimrod is caught in the bracket. 

Fate says, " Oh, nixie all junk! 

Here is your jacket, quick pack it. 

Put on the style, cKp the racket." 
28 



NOTIONAL NIMROD 29 

Notional Nimrod once speared 

Some hen, she'd a voice Kke a rooster, 

Cut off her head, now 'tis feared 

The bird cannot crow as she uster. 
It really is useless to boost her. 

Notional Nimrod — his days 

Hurry along to a close. 
Oh dread accounting — his stays 

Bursting — we pass — squirt the hose. 

Wash up and squash up his nose. 

Oh for one nice honest sinner 

Carrying squarely the load, 
Gallant Bank breaker, some winner, 

One dandy Knight of the Road 
Ready to jump the high hurdle 
Up into fame. Crack the girdle. 

Nimrod the foxy eel stealer, 

Dealer in bum willow ware. 
Nimrod the coward and squealer, 

Guy who would not take a dare, 

Making his cocoanut flare 

Bouncing about in the air, 

Handsfull of hair he doth tear, 

Shaking the bright golden stair. 

Nimrod the man with a dirk 

Bellows and kicks Kke a mare, 
Nimrod all quirk with a smirk, 

Gives up his soul to despair, 

Climbs down the stair, crazy loon, 

Dancing the Devil's own tune. 



30 NOTIONAL NIMROD 

Nimrod the man with a notion, 
Got down the bottle of pulp, 

Shaking up well the vile potion, 

Drinking it down with one gulp. 

Soon the great Nimrod felt groggy — 
Leaping about on one knee — 

See the big mind fluster foggy, 
All the gray matter at sea. 

Nimrod is reeling all cloggy, 
Crazy as crazy can be. 

Soon his friends bring eggie noggie. 
Making one last final plea. 

Trying to turn back his fate, 

Useless! Alas 'tis too late. 

All the egg nog in the punch bowl 
Can't oil the poor Buffer slick. 

All the rare munch in the crunch roll 
Never can make Nimrod kick 
Changing the dead to the quick. 

My ! what a pretty gazelle 

Leaping about in the churchyard. 

Wandering Demons now spell 

Dismal award in the birch guard. 

There underneath the gray tombstone, 
Just about three feet or so, 

Nimrod is safe in the Doom Zone, 
Fighting the man with a hoe. 



NOTIONAL NIMROD 31 

Poor little Notional Nimrod 

Withering crisp like old leather 

Half starving, carving green slim rod, 

Crushed shaky weed in bad weather. 

Down in the caves of the ocean 

Bones of the dead spread about. 

Hear that harsh frightful commotion, 
While Father Neptune doth shout, 

Ordering mermaids to dance. 

Nixie two legs can they prance? 

They never heard of poor Nimrod 
Safe in his own narrow trim pod. 

Epitaph 

Oh! Fairy soap, oh! Fairy soap. 
You cannot hope the least to cope 
With sin, or polish off the stain 
Nor bring relief to any pain. 

Under the sod 
Notional Rod 

Nimrod poor clod 

In his green pod — 
Say — does he fry? 
I don't know, why, 

Do You? 



THE PINK TEA 

They held a pink tea at the Rink. 
The Gink had a kink in his bHnk. 
He took a pink drink — hear the clink 
Of his glass. As he gulps see him wink. 
Hank pays for the drink. Hear the chink 
Of the tin in his purse. See the link — 
Pink link as it squelches the Gink, 
And pushes him over the brink. 
The grasshopper foolishly hops, 
And lands in the bucket of slops. 

'Tis better by far to be frank. 
Tea drinking we all know is rank. 
The Devil himself keeps the bank. 
Just listen — that horrible clank 
Of the chain on the leg of the Crank. 
Poor Hank so lank turns on his plank 
In the cell, 'tis his bed — down he sank, 
His teeth gnashing, weeping — ^poor Hank. 

Ohl look at that bright yellow spider. 
The lady bug tries hard to ride her. 
They both spin around Hke mad tops, 
Then fall in the bucket of slops. 

Dear Hank, please agree drinking tea 

Is worse than tobacco for thee. 

32 



THE PINK TEA 33 

Poor Hank, how he slank — all we see 
Are cobwebs high up in his tree. 
Too much drinking tea. The decree, 
You see — Foolish Hank — bugs! Oh gee! 

The Bug House, my dear friend, keep shy of. 
Be certain you don't make a guy of 
Yourself. Too much tea makes a sty of 
Poor Ginks Hke old Hank. There's no why of 
Nor wherefore. Alas ! too much pink 
Tea landed poor Hank like a mink 
In the buggy clap trap, with one slap. 
Poor Hank, fooKsh Crank, Oh poor Yap. 

The tube — how the mercury drops 
To zero. The lady bug flops. 
The spider kicks once and then pops 
Down deep in the bucket of slops. 

The Pink Tea continues to rob 
All boobs who are on to the job. 
Avoid all pink tea, be a slob 
If you Hke, but don't howl — never sob 
Over what can't be helped, don't be loose. 
No — don't be one Jack scrambled goose, 
Or worse, an ambiguous flounder, 
Be one dandy all about Rounder. 

The spider desparingly hops. 
The lady bug languidly mops. 
Deserted, without any props, 
Both die in the bucket of slops. 



34 THE PINK TEA 

Next week there will be a fandango, 
And after the spree one plain tango. 
We'll finish with one Foxy Fox, 
And then we'll adjourn to the rocks, 
The cHff that o'er hangs the dark river. 
With neither a shake nor cold shiver. 
We'll top off the vixenish revel. 
Oh yes, we will jump to the Devil. 
And after the spree, surely we, 
Will never more call for pink tea. 

The spider and lady bug soak 

To death. When at last they awoke 

They never drank any pink tea 

In bugs' Paradise, we'll agree. 

Such stuff don't pan out with their chops 

Down deep in the bucket of slops. 

Yes, in the bugs' Heaven, now we 

Feel certain they never drink tea. 



THE ROUND-SHOULDERED LICKER 

In Wilmington City there lives an official, 
His art is all thumps, on the touch 

He fondles with leather. His hinder initial, 
The third in the alphabet. Such 

A wonderful Licker, 

Round-shouldered Big Sticker, 

Nix bicker, no kicker, not much. 

Lively Andrew 
Once a plan drew, 

Of a bank around the corner. 
Someone blabbed, 
He was nabbed. 
I am sure he feels forlorner 
Than two superannuated 
Pair of candlesticks, ill mated. 

What can he do? 

Trouble doth brew 

Fast for you, 

But don't stew. 

He's now introduced to. 
Is properly noosed to, 

Th' jost, that dark post called black Susan. 
Andrew, don't fret 
Cancel your debt. 

Howl away, squirm, pay your dues an 
Ah ! thank the Spanker all zeal. 

35 



36 THE ROUND-SHOULDERED LICKER 

Th' round-shouldered Spanker whose speel 

Is swinging the strap, 

And making it slap, 
Blistering Slobs while they squeal. 

Moonlight Charlie 

Stole some barley; 
Hear the voice say, " Beat it, beat it, 
Do it properly, complete it." 
Thus spoke Peter Patsy Farley, 
But too late, the Copper socked him, 
Nabbed him, ran him in and locked him 
In the Work House near the trolley, 
Turned him over to the jolly 
Warden, such a merry Switcher. 
Every lashing makes him richer. 
Ten gold dollars he did net; 
Ten sharp slaps did Charlie get. 

His conscience only once 

Troubled this Spanking Dunce. 
At the meeting of the board, 

Some one read an ancient clipping. 
It has struck some tender cord. 

How it drives the Warden skipping 
From the room completely awed. 

Thinking of that painful whipping, 
When he lashed poor little Mabel. 
Read the clipping. News by cable. 
It is rather painful reading. 
Full of much unwritten pleading. 
See the little girl all bleeding. 



THE ROUND-SHOULDERED LICKER 37 

Little Mabel broke some chalk, 

We have read of that before. 
See the Warden tremble, balk. 

See the quiver of his jaw. 
Sneak, poor Warden, sneak, reflect. 

See him shiver, skip out early. 
He don't like to recollect 

How he whipped the Uttle girlie. 
Forcing the poor gentle pet 
To take off her chemisette. 

Leaving her fair, 

Lily white, bare. 

The soft spoken Licker 

With iron-gray hair. 
Is never a kicker. 

They always declare. 
The Round-Shouldered Slapper 

Would rather whip Guys 
Than plug the strap clapper 

And eat cherry pies. 
Like slippery elm 
He stands at the helm. 

The Spanker is dapper. 

Quite neat in attire. 
His trade is a Sapper 

That quenches all fire 
Effect. Yet this Licker 
Is never a kicker. 
One regular Clicker, 
He never would dicker 

With minor objections. 



38 THE ROUND-SHOULDERED LICKER 

No smooth genuflections, 

None such. 
This gentle nose picker 
Is never a tricker, 
No, never would bicker 
Not much ! 

This legalized Switcher 

Heaping up cash, 
Gets richer and richer 

Swinging the lash. 

The pride of the Work House, 

This regular skunk louse. 
Will soon need a crutch 

To hold up his figger, 

While spanking some nigger. 
You can't beat the Dutch, 
As such, no not much. 

The Round- Shouldered Flogger 
Is never a dogger. 

He still plies his trade. 

No shovel or spade 
Swings out with more zeal — 
That strap. Oh that squeal, 
While peal after peal — 

The chime in the tower 
Announces the Licker 
Is working — one sticker — 

No flicker nor cower, 
No nothing can sever 
This man from his whip. 



THE ROUND-SHOULDERED LICKER 39 

Forever and ever 

The Guy gets the clip. 
The Round- Shouldered Sticker 
Quite happy don't bicker. 

No crutch 
Props th' licker, no kicker, 

Not much. 



GUY BARNABAS BONE 

I LIVE near the Stygian river, 

Way down in the tropical zone. 

My name is Guy Barnabas Bone. 
My principal meal frizzled liver. 
Come close to the fire, don't shiver. 

And while we are here quite alone 

I'll tell you the tale of the Shepherd 
Poor man, foolish donkey, he jeopard — 

— ized life by the seed he had sown, 

The bite of the vinegerone. 

Last Friday I heard a queer cry. 

And then such a pitiful moan. 

My stars, 'twas a vinegerone! 
Most fatal, unfortunate guy! 
No hope, he would certainly die. 

I made one dash over the grime. 

Ran hurriedly through the damp briar. 
The light from the blazing camp fire 

Revealing the sad yet sublime 

Bite that was full of Bug slime. 

The vinegerone stung the cracker 

Alphonse, while he lay fast asleep 
Near th' sheep, oh you luckless Bo Peep. 
His heel smashed his little attacker. 
And then he grew blacker and blacker. 

40 



GUY BARNABAS BONE 41 

One struggle. Alphonse doth atone 

His fault. That implacable stanch man 
The brawny inflexible Ranch man 

Now said, " Dig a grave, don't postpone 

The work of the vinegerone." 

I dug up the earth all alone, 

We buried Alphonse that same evening. 

The Ranchman meanwhile made beheve ring 
The funeral bell; Heart of stone ! 
He's worse than the vinegerone. 

High up on his own Httle throne 

The vinegerone is a corker, 

Attends to his duties, no balker. 
Great Queen of the tropical zone, 
The wonderful vinegerone. 

My card please. " Guy Barnabas Bone.'' 
I live near the Stygian river, 
My principal food, gophers' liver. 

I'll sell you a vinegerone 

(My business), I stand all alone. 

My name is Guy Barnabas Bone. 
I've built on my alkaH cone 

One nice Httle business, by golly! 

I live by the bugs, oh how jolly! 
High prices? You bet. All alone, 

Like Caesar, I wear laurel holly; 
Unique in this tropical zone. 



42 GUY BARNABAS BONE 

My name is Guy Barnabas Bone. 

I live by my wit, I'm all luck. 

Don't fight me, it's useless to buck 
Against me, my lucky birth stone 
Is th' eye of a vinegerone. 

I fodder with beautiful buck — 

— leberries my lop-sided duck. 
Come visit my alkali cone. 
And ask for Guy Barnabas Bone. 
I'll sell you a vinegerone. 



THE CORNER OF MY THUMB 

The multitude is shouting, Oh hear the fife and drum. 
I lie upon the bed of pain, I feel so very bum 
I cannot move an inch. Oh dear, I know I shall suc- 
cumb. 
The uric acid gathers in the corner of my thumb. 

The awful night is passing, my thumb is on the bum. 
The Httle robin singing, while looking for a crumb, 
Doth gladden my poor rim rams, my heart is overcome. 
The ministering Angel bringeth a glass of rum. 

That Angel of the hospital, the kind and gentle nurse, 
Now slips one hand beneath the pillow, softly grabs my 

purse, 
Then quietly she slips away, more favors to disburse 
Among the sick and dying — how horribly perverse ! 

I cannot budge, I cannot move one inch, that glass of 

rum 
Has paralyzed all faculties, I feel as if a drum 
Was beating in my brain. I cannot speak, I'm dumb. 
The uric acid gathers in the corner of my thumb. 

That woman with the cancer in the gullet, hear her 

stammer. 
The gentle nurse, ungentle now, raises the staff to slam 

her. 
Why don't they end the case at once and hit her with a 

hammer. 

43 



44 THE CORNER OF MY THUMB 

I do not know what I am writing in this garbled rare 
Selection. Oh ! the pain it doth my heated brain ensnare 
Causing contradictions. All qualities forswear 
Allegiance, now leaving me sick as a spavined bear. 

My stomach now doth bulge, oh! for one single crumb — 
That may excite my appetite, oh ! what a buzzing hum ! 
The Doctor made me take quinine, one ear is almost 

dumb, 
The uric acid gathers in the corner of my thumb. 

The acid poisonous now crawls insidious beneath 

The gum and circles round, and forms one nasty little 

wreath. 
And worse, that sting, that horrid thing, the tartar on 

the teeth. 

That fellow in the corner bed was lately amputated. 
He lost his leg, but does not care, he truly is elated. 
The artificial Hmb is bright. He is so antiquated 
He thinks the leg is made of gold, we see it's only plated. 
But let the fellow smile away, we all know he is fated, 
Yes, slated in a day or so to take a journey crated. 

Of all the pains on our earth, rheumatic pains are bum. 
Leave acid fruit alone, my friend, never indulge in rum. 
I know what I am writing of, my left ear still is dumb. 
The uric acid gathers in the corner of my thumb. 



THE LATTER DAY SAINT 

True follower of the great Prophet 

Without any blemish or taint, 
Quite orthodox, pious, " Great Tophet! " 

Yes, I am a Latter Day Saint. 

My mansion is all full of chickens, 
I love every one of my wives; 

Of late they have eaten queer pickin's. 

They scratch — see them scratch, each one strives 
To out scratch the bunch, they have hives. 

The first girl I married, sweet Lulu, 

Oh my ! such a dumpKng, one corker, 
High stepper, stuck up like a Zulu, 

But also a nice little porker. 

Fat Lulu, obedient worker. 

Affectionate, eager to learn. 
Neat housewife, was never a shirker. 

She fried the lamb chops to a turn, 

And never let anything burn. 

'Til one day, by chance, I did learn 

The dead rat was found in the churn. 

Yes, after awhile Lulu strangled 

My love, she became one stale plodder. 

Her cooking, now rank, she entangled 

My tonsils with very queer fodder. 

My poor aching heart bled in sodder. 

45 



46 THE LATTER DAY SAINT 

While resting one day in the gutter, 
I suddenly felt my pulse quicken, 

That rustle, my heart gave a flutter, 

I thought it must be a stray chicken. 

'Twas certainly something with feathers, 
Some bird, chicken, angel or drake. 

Accustomed to all kinds of weathers. 
All flutters without any brake. 

I rubbered my neck looking over 

My shoulder. I thought I'd observe 

Some species of partridge or plover, 

And there stood a Cherub all curve. 
Quite cheeky and all full of nerve. 

The Cherub with one graceful swish 
Of feathery wing, drew a knife 

And said, " Oh you tame ' flying fish ', 
It's time that you take one more wife. 

See this knife? On your life time is rife." 

The Cherub continued, " Oh Elder! 

The Lord says again you must marry. 
The Lord sticks the dart, has compelled her 

To give you her heart, I mean Carrie. 

So hurry up. Elder, don't parry. 

Wed Carrie at once, never tarry." 

Oh rapture, oh foretaste of Heaven! 
The Cherub now danced me a jig, 

Two steps to the left and then seven 
Around to the right like a big 
Hop Turvy Drop Tumble — the sprig! 



THE LATTER DAY SAINT 47 

The Cherub repeated, " Wed Carrie, 

The law has decided you must. 
Two wives must you feed, quickly marry 

Young Carrie, or else you will bust. 
Your soul will belong to Old Harry, 

You never will be upper crust. 
Hop up, marry Carrie, don't tarry; 

Or go to the Devil and rust. 

Two wives (for the present) no trust. 



" Thy duty, dear Mormon — no taint 

Should jar thee, nor mar my decision. 
Be careful, thou Latter Day Saint, 
'Tis time to obscure the sweet vision 
This Elf, yes myself must skedaddle. 
Pray don't think my words are all twaddle; 
Farewell, dearest Elder, farewell. 
Be careful and don't go to Hell." 

The cherub now vanished through space 
While I feeling ticklish queer. 

Made off at a rattling pace. 

I soon drank a gallon of beer. 
Delighting my heart with its cheer. 



I'll never forget the tongue lashing 
I got when I told my first spouse 

To get things in order, that dashing, 
Fair Carrie as meek as a mouse, 
Would soon be the head of my house. 



48 THE LATTER DAY SAINT 

Fat Lulu said, " Drat the fair Carrie, 
The mink, wait, I'll give her the rap. 

What! Carrie, that she wolf — you marry? 
I'll scratch Carrie quite off the map." 

Oh Hooky! poor wifie, one struggle — 
Dear Lulu lay over my lap — 
Another slight kick — soon I juggle 
The drapery off — now rap, rap, 
I paddle her well with a strap. 

Soon after the spanking her eyes 

Were gentle, she gave me no sass. 
It all was a grateful surprise. 

And now one strange thing came to pass. 
She kissed me. I gave her a prize. 

Two earrings of gold (made of brass). 
She knelt, wept aloud, oh such cries! 

She said she'd be good (poor jackass) ! 
I petted her, made her arise. 

She thanked me, another first class 
Kiss, there where the beer clings, Alas! 

So much for those earrings all brass. 

The cure, though severe, did its work, 
It sobered her up, smoothing lumps, 

And then we three went to the Kirk, 
Myself, Lulu, Carrie — all grumps. 

All fits of the dumps took to slumps. 
And when I got home I cut trumps 
And paddled them over their rumps. 

They thought me a weakHng, I ain't; 

But just one plain Latter Day Saint. 



THE LATTER DAY SAINT 40 

I let Carrie know I was boss, 

I put her at once in her place. 
I made Carrie work Hke a horse. 

I found her a very hard case. 
She wanted to wear velvet coats, 

Expecting her three meals per day. 
You can't feed your women on oats. 

Because if you do they will bray 

And baulk like a sow, all decay. 

All this happened long, long ago. 

Fat Lulu the corker survives, 
Elastic with health, plastic dough. 

I'll read you a Hst of my wives. 

There's Bridget, the Irish canary. 

Lame Susie I'm always selecting 
To kick (our old Mother Cary) 

With such a big flock. I'm erecting 
The Whipping Post. Let the unwary 

Beware I There will be much correcting. 
Oh, thou erring wifie will nary 

Escape. I spank each naughty fairy. 

There's pretty Matilda, all dimples, 

And Emma, the bird from Rhinebeck, 

And gentle Rosanna, all pimples, 

And Bess with the boil on her neck. 

There's Ethelred, coaxing and catching, 
So artless— the cute Uttle witch. 

And Isadore, all the time scratching. 
She seems to be troubled with itch. 



50 THE LATTER DAY SAINT 

Belinda, Lucinda and Molly 

Are each a fine peach in their way. 

Cordelia, Ophelia and Polly 

The same, while Irene is a jay 

Who often must pay for some folly, 
Shut up in a closet all day. 

'^ And as for my numerous offspring — 
Oh give me a rest, fly a kite. 

Send out the alarm, ting it off, ring, 
I don't know my children by sight. 

Say, give me a drink. Blow it off, sing 
All praise to the Latter Day Sprite! " 

My castle is curious, quaint 

My kingdom as strong as a rock, 
They call me a beast, but I ain't, 

I simply look after my flock. 
I'm only a plum without paint; 

My wives have to work by the clock. 
Oh, I am a Latter Day Saint, 

The pride of the Shrine, I don't crock. 

Greeting, greeting, 

Hear that knocking ; 

Come to meeting. 

Nothing crocking. 
Amen. 



RETROSPECT 

The wandering Demons assemble, 

Each gink has a kink in his snoot. 

Each Imp is a bute on a toot. 
Terestrials whiff, sniff and tremble. 
The maiden that can't find the prison 

Is now in a terrible fix. 

We'll call it a seven or six. 
One question of note has arisen — 

That bell, oh that horrible knell! 

The bHstering maiden in Hell, 
She walks on the burning hot tiHng. 

The heat in the cavern is fierce, 

The Demon pursues, carte and tierce. 
The girl flung her fling — oh defiling! 

Oh poor Httle girhe, poor thing! 

Poor birdie, poor, poor broken wing. 
The Fiend is vindictively surly. 

He stabs with a sharp burning knife. 

She walked into sin all her life. 
Oh pity the bHstering girhe ! 

Poor girhe! 

We can't speak too highly of Riley, 

Nor notional Nimrod the peach. 

Mike certainly is not a leech, 
All generous — just a bit wily. 

Kink winkie, he puts on the slugs. 

('Tis better to live without bugs.) 
51 



RETROSPECT 

The Dong Dinger quite a good fellow, 
Is zealous when not on the drag, 
Astride of that steep rocky crag. 

Quite jaundiced and partially yellow, 
He is such a wonderful wag. 
Especially during a jag. 
Don't gag. 

And now for that creature all gears. 
The woman without any ears, 

She's a classical problem to parse, 

Is ahnost an optical farce. 
She sometimes calls forth a few jeers. 

There's a crack in her tumbledown beak 

Like a flageolet minus the squeak; 
Or a mandolin tuned to a fourth, 

Or a fiddle bow weak in the middle; 

Or an overdone cake on a griddle, 
Or a bowlful of underdone broth. 
All froth. 

And as for my dandy old chummer 

The vinegerone — oh my curves ! 

Alas it is hard on my nerves. 
I fear I am quite a fierce bummer. 

So lest you fall down in a fit 
'Tis better to be a swift pruner. 

Now out with it, quick or I split. 
I treated the old bagpipe tuner — 

One freakish farewell, yes to wit, 
The very same way I'll treat you. 
Dear me I am broke, get the glue. 

And fix me up just a wee bit. 



RETROSPECT 53 

Step lively about in a jiffy, 

And then we will enter the pit. 

So give me yer mit. We now quit 
As soon as I sign the name, Griffy. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 905 645 4 



